


The Tragic and Remarkable Story of the Invisible Girl

by theorangewitch



Series: Angstober [5]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Angst, Gen, Invisibility, curse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-05
Updated: 2018-10-05
Packaged: 2019-07-25 19:15:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,135
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16203932
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theorangewitch/pseuds/theorangewitch
Summary: It was a Tuesday, which is the most unremarkable day of the week. It’s not the first or the last day, or the day in the exact middle. Even Thursday is more interesting than Tuesday, because Thursday is almost Friday. Tuesday isn’t almost anything.





	The Tragic and Remarkable Story of the Invisible Girl

**Author's Note:**

> I started this uhhhhhh months ago and just now finished it, so it counts. It's a story about a day in my life that's certainly horror but barely fantasy.
> 
> This is for day 5 of Angstober - Cursed. You can find a link to the challenge in the author's note of the first work in this series.

It was a Tuesday, which is the most unremarkable day of the week. It’s not the first or the last day, or the day in the exact middle. Even Thursday is more interesting than Tuesday, because Thursday is almost Friday. Tuesday isn’t almost anything.

She woke up early to the sound of reverberating bass and electric guitar as her alarm blared next to her on her nightstand. She grabbed her phone and cut it off. 7:30 am, on the dot. The sky was dim and gloomy and her weather app told her it would be in the thirties all day, with a chance of rain in the afternoon and evening. Her roommate Sarah was still asleep--that lucky bitch didn’t have class until early afternoon, and thus was free to sleep the morning away. Within fifteen minutes she was ready to go, face washed and eyes bleary, and so she headed out of her dorm to grab breakfast. 

When she arrived at the dining hall the woman who usually swiped her in was sitting at a table maybe thirty feet away from the register, eating cereal and doing a crossword, paying no attention at all. 

“Hello,” she called after she stood there in front of the register for a minute or two. “Can you swipe me in?”

The woman didn’t respond, so she shrugged and went into the dining hall without swiping. Free breakfast.

After a mediocre breakfast of sausage and fruit, she went to her first class. She was the first one there, aside from her professor, who didn’t look up as she came in. She didn’t greet him; she just took her usual seat in the second row of desks and took out her notebook. The room was washed out by the florescent lights, maybe even more so than usual. But what did she know? The class passed normally, but she noticed that her professor didn’t call on her a single time she raised her hand.  _ Weird _ , she thought. He was usually very accepting of any participation he got, what with this being such an early class. But otherwise, she didn’t think much of it. 

When she returned to her room after class, her roommate was still asleep. She had a good four hours until her next class, so she took a nap. She snuggled down into her comforter and tried to banish all the times she’d been ignored from her mind. She awoke at the same time has her roommate, but Sarah was on her way out the door within half an hour, not even deigning to greet her. 

_ Rude _ , she thought, but she didn’t really mind. Sarah probably had places to be anyway. 

Lunch went about the same as breakfast, only the lady at the register was actually sitting there this time, scratching on a lottery ticket. Except she still didn’t seem to see her. She ended up going in without swiping again, because the lady seemed so distracted.  _ She’s off today, I guess _ . 

Her second class went the same as her first as well, with the professor still not calling on her when she raised her hand. She even spoke without raising her hand a few times, but nobody in class reacted when she said something. 

She sighed internally.  _ Whatever. What I said was pretty dumb anyway.  _ She really should stop saying whatever first comes into her head. It was usually pretty dumb, and made her come off as obnoxious and self-centered. 

After class, she received a text. It was from the nice girl who sat next to her, Ulrica. She stage managed with her, and they’d formed something of a bond. “Where were you today?” it read. 

She furrowed her brow at the message. “In class?” she typed back. Immediately, a little red exclamation mark appeared next to the message. “Not delivered,” the text below it read. She rolled her eyes. If Ulrica wasn’t paying enough attention to notice that she was in class today then, well. Well, she didn’t know what was going on. Maybe Ulrica had the same thing the register lady had. Maybe something was going around. 

Homework passed in the way homework always passes: slowly, and with little event. She scratched down her biology notes in her chicken scratch handwriting and skimmed her readings for the next couple of days. She couldn’t really be bothered with annotation these days; her brain didn’t absorb most readings either way. 

She walked into dinner without swiping not even waiting to see if the lady at the register noticed her. She didn’t, of course. And so she sat down in the dining hall’s interior, which seemed even gloomier than usual. The food tasted blander, too, and she couldn’t seem to make it better no matter how much salt and pepper and ketchup she put on it. 

By the time she arrived at rehearsal that evening, she knew something was wrong. Nobody had talked to her all day. She wasn’t the most outgoing person in the world, but she usually had a few interactions, even if they were mostly pretty superficial. The register ladies hadn’t spoken to her, her professors hadn’t spoken to her, her roommate hadn’t spoken to her. She couldn’t even send a goddamn text. 

As she shuffled into the theater, she was filled with dread.  _ What’s  _ wrong  _ with me?  _ she asked herself over and over again. She didn’t know. Everything had seemed so normal when she woke up. When her director didn’t acknowledge her when she waved hello, she wasn’t surprised. Why should she? Nobody had all day. One of the other stage managers walked in, but she didn’t acknowledge her either. 

About fifteen minutes later she received a text from the head stage manager. “Where are you?” it read

“I’m here,” she sent back, but of course the message didn’t deliver. She walked over to the head stage manager, Rachel, and waved at her. “I’m right here.” 

But Rachel didn’t notice. 

“I’m here!” she exclaimed again. “I’m right fucking here!” She ran up to the actors, to the director, to Rachel and Ulrica. “I’m right here, why can’t you see me? Why can’t you hear me?” She was shouting now, screaming, her voice echoing around the barren theater. “SEE ME!” She reached out towards the director, attempting to grab her by the shirt, but only to her horror discovered that her hand passed right through. 

So she ran. She ran from the theater, not bothering to take her backpack with her. She ran out into the cold and rain but she could barely feel it. She started running towards her dorm but then took a sharp right turn and ran towards the street, away from the school, away from everyone who couldn’t see her, never saw her, even when she was one hundred percent visible. 


End file.
